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She’d never in a million years expected one night with the man who’d patiently helped glue her only pair of shoes together would turn into that. After learning about the lost kid, she had planned to sideline her Brody Summers fantasies, not jump on board with his. What happened in his room wasn’t an oops, we gave into a mutual desire thing. He’d opened up to her, letting her in. To his sexual fantasies, sure, but it was a step beyond casual sex.
She’d mastered the one-night stand in college, perfecting the art of pushing men away before they left her. But they’d never been like this. The connection. The need. The trust. The orgasms. The night she’d experienced left her standing on shaky ground with a man she had to face in the morning.
Tomorrow she had to reveal the reason for her trip, and endure an awkward two-hour drive in this state that spelled out bad memories. One hundred twenty minutes spent wondering what would have happened if Brody’s brother hadn’t interrupted earlier. Two hours of trying to guess if the man who’d tied her up and delivered back-to-back orgasms regretted their time together, or wanted more.
The thought of Brody’s tall, muscular frame seated behind the wheel, steering his vehicle down the road while silently wishing he’d stayed at the bar last night far, far away from her—that mental picture cut into her like a knife opening an old wound.
“What is it about this state?” she murmured, tossing the pillow aside. She set foot in Oregon and the old hurts she’d buried here long ago resurfaced, driving her to make choices that in hindsight looked downright stupid.
She wasn’t an orphan clinging to a desperate hope that someone would like her enough to offer a place to call home. Back in Manhattan, she lived in a high rise. Her two-bedroom apartment probably cost more than the largest house in Independence Falls. Work drove her life. She’d earned her colleagues’ respect as she’d climbed closer and closer to the top of her field. A specialty she’d selected because it was one of the most challenging. She didn’t need the people out here to like her.
And she couldn’t afford to melt into a puddle of desire just because Brody Summers said the words she’d longed to hear—I want you.
But she had. Oh God, she had. And now she had to live with the repercussions. Only it would be so much harder than she’d imagined.
I’d like to see you again.
But she couldn’t get involved with him. Never mind that she was treating his brother, her life was waiting for her back in New York. She had her job and the little girl she mentored.
OK, maybe Brianna wasn’t the best example of her ties to the East Coast. The ten-year-old girl barely spoke to her during their bimonthly lunches. But that hadn’t stopped Kat from daydreaming about becoming a larger part of the foster child’s life. Trips to museums. Central park in nice weather. They could go shopping for clothes and toys.
But even if her relationship with Brianna never moved beyond sullen lunches, Kat knew she couldn’t start something with Brody. As much as she wanted to even the orgasm count, she knew better than most people that wishes crashed and burned every day, especially in Oregon. One more I-can’t-resist-him moment and this one would detonate, threatening her carefully constructed life.
“WHAT WERE YOU thinking?” Brody demanded, the phone pressed to his ear.
Swinging his duffel over his other shoulder, he gave the hotel room a quick survey. Black lace peeked out from behind the desk chair. Dropping to one knee, he picked Kat’s underwear off the floor.
One more reason for her to call. . .
But he didn’t want Kat to reach out looking for her panties. He wanted her to pick up the phone driven by desire to see him again.
“I haven’t gotten laid in eight months,” Josh said. “I thought now might be a good time to do something about that.”
Fucking irony. He stared at the slip of black lace in his hand. Last night he’d been thinking the same thing. Only it had been a lot longer than eight months. And they’d stopped short of the finish line because someone had gone missing.
“And you hired a twenty-something goddess to watch over me,” Josh explained. “So I figured why not let her give me a full-body exam?”
“At least you remember what you did last night,” Brody said. “That’s something.”
“I wrote it down. Nothing like waking up to a Post-it note about what the nursing student looks like naked.”
“I hired her to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid like turn on the gas stove and forget to switch it off,” Brody said, pocketing the lace thong as he headed for the door. He needed to haul ass to the lobby in order to meet the doctor who would hopefully put an end to Josh’s predicament. “Megan spent the last year taking care of Walter Kenny while working for her nursing degree. She had excellent references.”
“Walter is an ornery old man. No wonder she wanted a roll in the hay.”
Brody pushed the Down button and waited for an elevator. “Is that why you took her to the barn?”
“I didn’t know when you were coming back,” Josh said. “I figured there would be less chance of interruption out there.”
“I’m not in town right now,” he explained. “I’m in Portland picking up the neurologist who has a clinical trial dealing with memory loss.”
“A trial?” Josh said. “Like an experimental dru
g or weird brain surgery?”
“No. It’s a task-oriented therapy.” Whatever the hell that meant. At this point, Dr. Westbury’s methods were their last hope.
The elevator arrived and he stepped inside, holding the door open. “I need to go. But I’ll be home in a couple of hours and with the doctor. Write that down.”
